First Slip
by Nalia-R
Summary: "With one motion, I'm about to condemn a child to their death. In my opinion it's nothing less than they deserve." Part 3 of miniseries The Untold, prior knowledge of series not required. Story of first escort to pull the first slip of the Games, ever.


**Oh! It's time for the next installment of The Untold already? Cool! Anyway, this one shot is told from the POV of the first escort to ever pull a slip for the Hunger Games. If this is the first time you've ever read one of my Untold One Shots, here's the deal. I do things like this to tell from the POV of people who really should have at least been MENTIONED and/or gone into more depth about.**

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I tucked my short neon yellow hair behind my ear and contemplated the crowd. I was lucky to be assigned District One, a district from which very few rebels had come. As they should have, their allegiance had lain with the Capitol. Ultimately, it lead to them reaping certain rewards that otherwise would not have been available to them.

Of course, this still didn't excuse the fact they had rebels.

At my feet was a extremely large crowd. The seventeen years olds were mingling with the twelve year olds, and I thought to myself that perhaps we should have organized them by age. It would be much more efficient, more orderly.

The mayor was still rambling on in an almost bored voice, while the crowd grew steadily more impatient. They could not understand how they could be one of the Districts punished. What had they done? They were our staunch defenders, our lap dogs. If we said to not eat for a week, we'd receive a thousand percent increase in recent deaths.

Still, they bred rebels.

Peacekeepers lined the perimeter of the crowd, guns in hand. The slightest move prompted their fingers to press against their triggers. I smirked to myself. I could almost here their thoughts from here.

_"Blink one more time and I'll blow your freaking head off!"_

I almost burst into a loud laugh that certainly would have called some unnecessary attention to myself, before straightening up and brushing my sweaty palms against the smooth blue silk of my dress. This was not the time nor place to act out. I must behave like a lady. The mayor was drawing to an end.

"So now for the reaping. Introducing...Eva Snow!"

I was surprised at the thunderous applause that sounded at my name. Looking out, I actually saw many happy, if anxious, faces. Both parents and children.

Except for one group.

They stood pressed close together like fish in a can, their clearly wide, scared eyes fixated on my journey across the stage. They weren't stupid. They knew that these reapings were fixed, and only the names of the rebel children had been entered.

I reached the microphone and grabbed it, making sure to keep a tight grip as not to drop it.

"Hello citizens of District One." I said. I saw the crowd in the back flinch at the sound of my slight Capitol accent, and I resisted the urge to snap at them. They had been brave enough to rape and pillage in the streets of my home, yet they couldn't take my voice? Ludicrous.

"Are you ready for the reaping?" I asked sweetly. A large roar met my words, and I laughed at their joy.

With one motion, I'm about to condemn two children to their death. In my opinion it's nothing less than they deserve.

"Well, here we go. The male tribute will be...Steel Kinz!"

A large, strapping boy with a head full of flaming ginger hair and bright green eyes stepped forward from the rebel group, and the crowd parted for him like the sea in this banned book I once read. When you used to be best friends with the president's daughter, you get to do a lot of things.

When he had reached the stage, I rummaged around in the girl's reaping bin. The crisp papers slipped around my fingers before I finally chose one.

"And the female tribute will be...Velvet Winer!"

A defiant looking tall girl with long, flowing honey blonde hair and violet eyes came from the rebels this time. I had a feeling that the crowd would have parted for this girl regardless of her rebel status. When she reached the stage, she grabbed the boys hand and they stood staring harshly at the people they once called their neighbors, now known as the sycophants thirsty for the spill of their blood.

I kept my expression straight with a smile on my face. But on the inside I was boiling. This was exactly the kind of behavior for which they were dying.  
I wish we didn't have to have a victor, but apparently the president says we need to provide hope.

I had the sickening feeling that "hope" would someday get us in trouble, if not controlled.

I think I know who should.

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**Ok, Part Three is over! In order to really grasp the significance of the tributes I just threw into the arena, you should read the fourth chapter of my story To Be Determined. I know, I advertise that story a whole lot, but its the universe I created. Stay tuned for the next installment of my series, My Girl.**


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